


Richie Ryan and the Tentacles of Death

by elistaire



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Community: spook_me, Gen, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-27
Updated: 2011-10-27
Packaged: 2017-10-25 00:03:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elistaire/pseuds/elistaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richie Ryan loses his sword in the ocean and has to retrieve it. Danger lurks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Richie Ryan and the Tentacles of Death

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2011 spook_me challenge.
> 
> [Link to the prompt](http://i879.photobucket.com/albums/ab353/spook_me/Spook%20Me%20Science%20Fiction%20Covers/SpookMe42-1.jpg)

He really hoped the sword was still there.

Richie pulled on his diving suit and then started preparing the diving equipment. He glanced at the ocean and the weather. Luck was with him and the day was bright and sunny and the ocean was as calm as it ever got.

It was the complete opposite of yesterday. That had been a truly crappy day.

While pulled over to the side of the road to rest, Richie had been challenged in the middle of a rainstorm, on the edge of a cliff that dropped away to sharp rocks and angry ocean, and he hadn’t even had time to get a cup of coffee that morning, so he had a particularly rotten headache. At least the fight had gone in his favor. He kept his head, the other guy didn’t.

Of course, he’d lost his sword over the cliff during the fight. That had sucked. He still had the other guy’s sword, but it was weighted differently and he didn’t like the length of it. Too long, too whippy. He wanted his _own_ sword back.

So, here he was. Hoping against hope that he could find it down on the ocean bottom. It was probably a waste of time, but Richie had time to waste.

Richie finished suiting up, glad that he’d taken scuba diving that one year that Mac had sent him to community college and that the guy at the dive shop had loaned him the equipment even though his certificate was not up to date, and went under the surface.

The sunlight penetrated weakly through the grey-green water, forming streaks and highlighting all the little motes that hung in suspension. He could see the dark fronds of stuff clinging to the rocks and the not-so-gentle swish back and forth as the tide went in and out. Richie had weighted himself down, so it was easy to swim-walk along the bottom. He scanned ahead and to the side, aware that he only had so much time to search. If he didn’t find it right away, though, chances were that it wasn’t going to be found. The ocean was a damn big place.

A glint of something caught his eye and Richie didn’t even dare hope, but he made his way over to it.

He could see his sword—wedged between a grouping of rocks. That was lucky, otherwise it might have been washed deeper into the sea or thrown up on shore, never to be found again. He hoped it didn’t mean too much damage to the blade. Probably he was going to need to have it professionally restored. At least, he hoped that was possible. Mac took such good care of his stuff that it was always pristine, like perfect museum pieces.

Richie put his hands around the handle and tugged, but it was stuck tightly.

He pulled again, and suddenly he was dragged sideways, a crushing weight encircling his ankle. Oh hell, he thought, with a flash of frustration and then dawning fear. He brought his head around and could only see dark flesh, pulsing. Strong lengths wrapped around him like ropes and Richie twisted frantically to get away.

The thing that had him just reached out more arms, wrapping around his legs and torso, one going for his throat. Richie caught a glimpse of the bulk of the monster. An octopus. Maybe a squid. Richie wasn’t entirely clear about the difference, but he sure as hell didn’t like either of them. The last thing he wanted to do was test out whether his Immortality would let him survive being digested.

The thing was enormous and, with its long uncoiled arms, it felt like it was everywhere in the water. Its tentacles tangled into Richie’s gear and suddenly he didn’t have any air available through his mouthpiece.

Richie kicked at it and tried punching it, but the muscle was solid and compact. He went for his dive knife and slashed out. For a moment the monster tightened its grip and Richie writhed in pain, but then the monster released him and Richie swam for the surface. The tentacles came back, catching him at his ankle and trapping one arm.

It dragged him down, with crushing pressure around his limbs, back to the gaping mouth. Richie slashed again and again with the knife, but for every tentacle he wounded, another seemed to take its place. The dive knife barely got through the thick skin of the monster, it was barely bleeding, leeching thick black ichor into the murky water.

Richie squirmed and twisted and there was a glint in the corner of his sight. His sword. In drawing him closer to its mouth, it was also bringing him close to his sword. Richie struggled to free one hand, waiting, waiting, and then snatched at his sword as he was pulled by.

He caught the handle and kept his grip. The sword was still stuck, and suddenly Richie was stretched painfully as the monster played tug-of-war with the rocks. Every fiber in Richie was in agony, but he didn’t let go of the sword, and a moment later, it released.

Richie brought it forward, as the extra force and momentum careened him like a cannonball directly at the monster, and stabbed at its head with all his might.

The thing roared and thrashed. In the tumult, Richie couldn’t see, but he felt the tentacles’ hold lessen and he wriggled out and swam for shore. His lungs were burning with the need for air and he dragged in a raw breath when he reached the surface. He forced himself to keep swimming, even though all he wanted to do was breathe and breathe. Finally, clambering up on the rocky beach, Richie turned with his sword, prepared to defend himself, but there was nothing.

Still gasping for air, Richie scanned the water. One dark tentacle coiled around a rock, then slipped beneath the water and was gone.

Richie scrambled to get as far from the water as he could.


End file.
